Chapter Text
The city does not belong to anyone.
It simply allowed certain people to believe it did.
From above, it glittered - glass towers and white lights reflecting off the bay. Headlines called it prosperous. Corporations flourished, investors smiled.
Detective Giyuu Tomioka knew better.
He stared at the skyline from the precinct balcony, coat buttoned high against the cold wind. Then he looks below at the blur of faces and lights. The city was alive at every corner but even in its rats.
Power wasn’t found in those dark, dirty alleys anymore. It lived behind polished glass and closed doors, buried in paperwork, disguised as success.
And in syndicates no one could prove existed.
“The Shinkaze doesn’t leave any trails,” a gruff voice said.
Giyuu didn’t move as a tall figure stepped beside him, eyes still fixed on the busy city below.
It was Urokodaki - chief inspector, his senior, the man who had taught him everything he knew, and, most importantly, his adoptive father in all but name.
Officially, the Shinkaze was a rumor. No confirmed leader, no identifiable structure, nothing law enforcement like him could investigate without ending in failure and embarrassment.
Unofficially, they owned docks, pharmaceutical routes, and plenty of seemingly legitimate businesses across the prosperous city. Investigations ran dry. Witnesses vanished or refused to speak. Evidence was nonexistent.
Every trail led to the same dead end, to his superiors shaking their heads at him, calling his investigations “a waste of time and resources.”
But Giyuu wasn’t one to give up.
“You can’t follow what doesn’t exist.”
“Then I’ll wait,” Giyuu said finally, his voice calm, despite the tension coiling in his chest. “They’ll show up. One day they’ll make a mistake, and that’s all it’ll take”
Urokodaki didn’t nod, didn’t shake his head. Instead, he placed a hand on Giyuu’s shoulder, the gesture brief, but heavy with unspoken trust.
“Patience is a weapon. You know that better than anyone,” Urokodaki said. “But obsession is a chain.”
The wind shifted, ruffling Giyuu’s hair, tied back in a loose ponytail. Below, the bay mirrored the sun’s rays, painting a peaceful scene Giyuu could not believe in. He would continue hunting the Shinkaze, whatever it took to rid the city’s precious citizens of their hidden evils.
Giyuu turned to his mentor. “Are you telling me to stop?”
“I’m telling you to be careful,” Urokodaki replied. “They say that the Shinkaze is always watching, always listening.”
For a long moment, they stood together, watching the sun sink below the horizon, signaling a day ending in fights for justice. Mentor and student. Father and son, in every sense but name.
Then, without another word, Urokodaki stepped back, leaving Giyuu alone to hold his vigil.
Giyuu did, staring into the city below, listening for a sound that might never come, looking for any suspicious movement. Somewhere in those alleys, rats emerged.
And somewhere in the darkness, the Shinkaze moved.